


Something that happens to everybody else.

by Annie_in_Wonderland



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Drug Use, Gen, Mind Palace, Suicidal Sherlock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:08:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22014625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annie_in_Wonderland/pseuds/Annie_in_Wonderland
Summary: After all these things that happened (Sherlock's torture, Mary's dead, not to mention Sherrinford etc. etc.) a "happy end" at 221b Baker Street seems bit odd, doesn't it?So here you get one of these "Sherlock's using again" and "Suicidal Sherlock" fanfics: our fave detective makes a deduction without understanding the emotional context, the consequences, everything it does to his beloved ones.Starting with a chapter from Sherlock's perspective, other characters will be added in the next chapters.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper
Comments: 4
Kudos: 39





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It's my first fanfic ever, so be nice. Not a native speaker, trying to improve my English - so be even nicer than u already are. :) 
> 
> Characters belong to the BBC, Moffat/ Gatiss, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Just writing for fun and because I have always loved writing but never tried it in English. 
> 
> Feel free to leave comments. If u have a lot of time u can also improve my language so that the next chapters will be better :D

**A simple deduction**

In a world without Sherlock Holmes, Mary Watson would still be alive. A mother, a wife. Molly Hooper wouldn't have fallen in love with at least two sociopaths. She could have been happy. She could have found the love of her life, the man that deserved her. The man who could have loved her in the way he couldn't.

In a world without Sherlock Holmes, John would have gone through so much less suffering than he had to endure the last couple of years. Bomb. Fake suicide. Bonfire. Bigger Bomb. Losing his wife. Eurus.

Losing his wife. She could still be alive. She has given her life... for him. For the one person in the world without whom all this... all this mess, all this suffering, all this loss would never have happened. He owes her to live, doesn't he? A life that is not wasted?

No. _We're even_. He didn't owe her a life, they were even. Well, that's what he wants to believe.

The only thing he had owed her was saving John Watson, his friend. His _best_ friend. His best friend, whose life had been so much better during his "death". Who had been happy, for the first time since Sherlock had met him. Whose happiness had been ruined by Sherlock and his stupid damn arrogance. 

Solving cases can never outweigh the suffering. Being a c _onsulting detective._ He felt disgusted by himself, by his childishness, his eager to show off his stupid intelligence. The real reason why he solved crimes: to show off. Not to safe anyone, just to show off. And poor Lestrade never got any credit for his work in solving these cases.

Lestrade. Greg Lestrade. How much of his time had Sherlock wasted? Too much. How often had he disappointed the inspector? Too often. Not as often as Mycroft probably, but still way too often.

Mycroft. All his life Sherlock had felt as if he was the centre of his older brother's universe. The only one Mycroft cared about - although he would never admit it. But what if "centre of the universe" wasn't an adequate metaphor in this context? He was rather the burden on his shoulders...

Taking a life is taking it from others. His life is a burden for others. So taking his life is taking a burden from them, from John and Mrs Hudson and Mycroft and Greg and Molly. Taking his life is taking. A. Burden. Taking a burden, the only possible situation in which "taking it's life from others" has a positive connotation. Taking a burden. Burden. 

The deduction is obvious. He has been thinking it would be a difficult choice, weighing pros and cons. Isn't that what people do? But it was a simple deduction.

In a world without Sherlock Holmes a lot of things would be better.


	2. A call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quite short chapters, sorry

**A call**

Shaking hands. He had never got used to this annoying side effect of his consumption. Shaking hands caused by taking drugs. Shaking hands caused trying to stop taking drugs. Always the same. It was tiring, annoying. It made everything so much more difficult. It takes a lot of effort to write down the last list. He can't think properly, something he is not used to. Can't catch up with his fast brain. Can't even remember the last time he had been completely sober.

They haven't noticed it. Although or maybe because they have known him for so long. Not even John, not even his brother. Not even Mrs Hudson. They haven't noticed it his time because he became a good liar. He has _always_ been a good liar. But he was careful, not to let them notice, not to let them _see_ what was really going on. Just one person might have noticed it but he has kept distance, the whole time. Which was actually not even difficult since he has barely left 221b the last two weeks.

This list is his last little lie, his last little attempt to let them believe that nothing has changed. That it is just him being Sherlock. A liar. A drug addict. A lying drug addict. Isn't that what they will think? Except for one person. One person will understand his little s _ecret message_ , the little code on this list. The one person that has always understood, that has always seen.

Mycroft will sort things out, as he always does. He will help him.

A noise. His phone. Ringing. It's so loud, why the hell is it so loud? He hasn't even taken the stuff yet. When was the last time he had a hit? Is he still high? Does it matter? Questions, so many questions he can't answer. He isn't used to that, he is Sherlock Holmes, he always has answers, hasn't he? 

* * *

"He doesn't answer the phone ... he... I tried it several times but he never answers it and..." She could hear the panic in her own voice. "Molly, calm down. It's Sherlock, you know how he is." Her hands were shaking while she tried to hold the phone in one hand and drive the car with the other. "Molly, where are you." "On my way... I.... John, I think he might ..." "He might what?" Now she could hear a change in his tone, the sound of worry. "You think he is using again, right?" "I... I might be wrong ... but - oh my -" "What, what's happening?" "No-nothing, I just... I just didn't see the red light, it's fine, I am almost there, I -" "For god's sake, is _everyone_ I know on the phone while driving? Do you know how many people die due to car accidents every year?" "John, he might have overdosed." He doesn't ask her why she thinks so. He doesn't answer why she even tried to call Sherlock. They haven't spoken to each other since what happened in Sherrinford. It was Mycroft who had a little _chat_ with her. Of course she had tried to message him. Call him. But he had never answered, until... "O Jesus, I am on the way from the station. I'll be there in about ten minutes. I will try to call him, see if he answers when it's me. Stay calm, Molly, ok? He'll be fine, he... Just try to get to Baker Street without causing a major car crash, okay?" She can hear his attempt of making a joke but none of them laughs. "Ok", she whispers before she hangs up.

But she knows something is going terribly wrong. She could hear it in his voice.


	3. "That's what people do, isn't it? Leave a note."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After a short NYE break... next chapter :) Pleeeeease leave comments :) <3

**"That's what people do, isn't it? Leave a note."**

_"Sherlock, Sherlock, can you ... c-can you hear me? Stay with me, ok? Mrs Hudson has called an ambulance, everything will be fine,everything will..." Her voice failing, her hands shaking. A piece of paper. "Don't you dare... Sherlock, please just..." Unfinished sentences. Mrs Hudson's loud sobbing. John's steps, rushing upstairs. Mrs Hudson's voice, just a sound, not words. What did she say? "Oh John, Sherlock... He is in the bathroom, oh and Molly's here, oh John..." Was that what she said to him? What did he answer? Did he answer._ Sherlock. _Everyone just saying his name, again and again as if it would bring him back. Sherlock. "Sherlock, don't you dare to die."_ _Was it herself saying it? Was it John? Was it Mrs Hudson? Ambulance. Finally. Finally the ambulance._

Vague memories come to her mind, while she is staring at the white hall. Mrs Hudson's still sobbing, silently, as if she doesn't want to be heard by anyone. The only sound disturbing this awful silence. The only _real_ silence. Her memories are loud, so loud, repeating. An endless loop of noising, vague memories. She closes her eyes. Doesn't help, nothing helps. Open again. "I... ehm... some coffee anyone..?" Lestrade glances her and nods finally. Mrs Hudson just shakes her head, sobbing louder again. "John?" "Hm?" The doctor looks up, suddenly pulled out of his thoughts. _He looks so tired_ , she thinks. _We all... so tired_...

"Ah, Miss Hooper, may I...?" "What?" "The cup of coffee?" "Oh... actually... it's for Greg and me... but..." "Well, I assume I don't have time for a cup anyways", he answers with a glance on his watch. "Dr Watson will inform me when my dear Brother is back from his little ... _trip,_ I guess", he adds smiling. She hates his smile, she has always hated it, hated _him,_ that arrogant, contemptuous snob! "Oh, dear!", Mrs Hudson's shrill voice interrupts her thoughts. Too late she realizes that she has just dropped the two paper cups in her hand, that she has spilled the hot brown liquid over Mycroft's suite that probably costs more than she earns in a month. "Ah, what a pity. Gentlemen, Mrs Hudson, I would keep company a bit longer, but thanks to Miss Hooper's.. _.clumsiness..._ I will need a couple of minutes to change." Her hands are shaking again but this time it isn't fear, it was anger.

A slap, right in his face. A mistake. A mistake, that reminds her of Sherlock and she can't think of him, not _now._

_How dare you through away the beautiful gifts you were born with..._

_"_ Well I assume I deserved that. After all it is my fault, a little lack of monitoring... But well, he was doing so-" "Don't you dare finishing that sentence", she whispers, looking right in two his reptile-like eyes. "And if you will walk out of this room instead of waiting"- she wants to say _if he wakes up_ but she just can't. Another unfinished sentence. "Miss Hooper, if I would wait whenever my little brother is high again, this country-" "Oh shut up! He is not just _high,_ he tried to ..." "Molly..." From the corner of her eyes she sees John slowly standing up. "He tried _what_?", Mycroft whispers, so quietly that only she can hear it. "He..." She sighs. "He has tried it again..." "Tried _what,_ Miss Hooper?" "Oh don't pretend as if you don't know what I mean!" "Molly..." She feels John's hand on her shoulder but she just shakes it off, crying, screaming. "Your _dear brother_ has tried to take his own life and you don't even care?! What a brother are you? How -" "Molly, it's enough", John whispers in her ear. "Miss Hooper, there is not a single sign that-" "He left a note."

She can see Mycroft freezing. And she knows that John does as well. "A note?"

* * *

"A note?" He can hear his own voice but he doesn't feel as if he was the person talking. _A note._

_That's what people do, isn't it? Leave a note. - Leave a note when? - Goodbye, John._

A step back. The room rushing around him. "Show me", Mycroft demands. His voice always has this _demanding_ sound, everything he says is an order. John tries to concentrate, while everything is falling in pieces and crushing down on him. Concentrate. There is a piece of paper Molly hands to Mycroft, he can't see what's written on it. The older Holmes brother giving it a short glance, then slowly starting to smile his arrogant fake-smile. "Miss Hooper, this is just one of Sherlock's list. We once made-" "I know exactly how these lists look like. And I know exactly that this one is different." "You mean all these ... chemical elements noted? _Mg, P_?", he asks smugly. "You as a doctor should see that it's just nonsense. No mysterious formula written down by my genius baby brother, just ten random symbols, random chemical elements that - all together - don't make any sense. Certainly he was already _high_ when he wrote that down and _most certainly_ that's not a sign of a _suicide_ ", he spits out and folds the paper accurately. "Excuse me, I don't have any more time for this little chat", he says with his polite smile and turns to the door. "He wrote _approximately",_ Molly says quietly, as Mycroft is already at the door. "Pardon me?", Mycroft asks.

His voice sounds so dampened, so far away. Again everything starts rushing. He feels as if he understands what she means but can't see it. Molly Hooper, a Sherlock-whisperer long before he slowly became one. "He wrote approximately". She doesn't turn around, staring to the floor. "And the amount and the dose he has written down... is inaccurate." "So?"He can see Mycroft turning around, Mrs Hudson stopping her sobbing, Lestrade looking as confused as so often.

"That's very unlike Sherlock, isn't it?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for that/ this, -ing/ infinitive, I am slightly confused. As I said: not a native speaker.
> 
> I think Molly is the only one really seeing things others don't see and I love that.
> 
> The element symbols I mentioned shortly in this chapter will be a little bit more important in the next chapter(s). Already any ideas? ;)


End file.
